


white winter hymnal

by IndieBughead



Series: The Bughead Collection of Drabbles [10]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, and shes not good at ice skating, betty cooper gets what she wants, bughead tumblr prompts, go figure, ice rink crushes, mistletoe involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 15:35:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16956705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndieBughead/pseuds/IndieBughead
Summary: for @sleuthingbetty based on the prompts 02. I sit at the rental booth at our local ice rink and watch you teach children how to skate, 03. alternatively, I watch kids teach you how to skate because you’re a terrible skater and 27. I run a hot chocolate/cider booth at the local ice rink and you always flirt with me but I didn’t think it meant anything because you seem to flirt with everyone.i hope you like it, Lu!





	white winter hymnal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sleuthingbetty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleuthingbetty/gifts).



> title from the fleet foxes song but inspired by the birdy version. [go give it a listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7LlKoQAvXUc) if you haven’t (it’s not christmassy per se but it sounds christmassy for reasons unknown to me.)
> 
> this drabble is way longer than it should be, but i make no apologies.

In hindsight, working the hot drinks booth at the Riverdale Ice Rink isn’t the worst decision Jughead Jones has ever made. (And he’s made some pretty terrible ones, including letting Archie handle the experimental part of last semester’s chemistry project and allowing a 12-year-old Betty Cooper to chop his hair off.)

 

(Archie and him still have around fifty hours of community work to finish before they graduate due to the amount of damage in Dr. Beaker’s classroom.)

 

(As for the unfortunate haircut, _well_ , he still wears a beanie 4 years later.)

 

Even if his family situation is far from ideal—his mother and sister are still in Toledo ( _maybe next year,_ his mother had sighed out when he’d called and suggested buying a bus ticket) and his father is still a recovering alcoholic, at least he gets some money out of sitting in this booth and typing the day way on his computer, occasionally being interrupted by a rosy-cheeked kid asking to get a cup of hot chocolate. The phrase _it could be worse_ has been stuck in his head for the best part of the break by now: he could be working construction in the freezing cold like Archie, or…

 

Well, he _could_ be stuck teaching kids how to skate, like Betty. Fortunately for him, he’d learned how to skate years ago, hand in hand with Mary Andrews. Unfortunately for Betty, that had been the winter her sister Polly had broken her left leg, therefore confining her to days spent by Polly’s bedside as Alice Cooper looked on proudly. Her first lesson had quickly turned into mayhem, with the kids realizing their instructor stood wobbly on her feet becoming the cause for giggles and jokes. Jughead had looked on from his booth with a certain degree of amusement until Betty had unceremoniously landed on her butt with a loud yelp.

 

“Why did you take the job if you don’t know how to skate, Betts?” he’d asked her a few minutes later, leaning against the side of the rink as Betty drank from his gifted hot chocolate and oversaw the kids warming up.

 

She’d let her eyes drift over Midge’s younger sister before turning to him, hand resting over her hip. “Mrs. Tate wouldn’t believe me when I said I didn’t know how to!” she’d quietly exclaimed, green eyes bulging right before turning back to the kids and adding, in a softer voice: “She thought I was joking around when I told her.”

 

Well, Jughead had thought, that’s not surprising. This whole town had a terrible habit of assuming Betty Cooper was just inherently good at _everything_.

 

“Do you want to switch with me?”

 

 _These kids are ruthless_ , his mind had screamed at him. _Think of Chuck and Reggie but in smaller bodies._

 

 _It_ _’s Betty,_ he’d fired back. _She’s my, uh… she_ ’s _Betty._

 

“No, it’s okay, Juggie,” she’d replied with soft smile on her lips before bumping her shoulder lightly with his, eyebrows furrowing in the stubborn way he’d come to recognize on her.  “I can handle it.”

 

***

 

It happens on December 23rd, a few hours after his shift is officially over. He’s been carefully editing his latest chapter for the last hour or two, the usual quiet of the rink at night, when it’s already been closed, helping him concentrate on the matter at hand. He yawns, stretches his arms above his head and checks the time. He knows his dad is working late tonight, so he debates whether to head straight home and hope there’s food in the fridge or walk to Pop’s for a burger or two.

 

His decision is made when he remembers there’s an envelope filled with a handful of bills for him just under the counter, left there by Mrs. Tate earlier that day. He’s already shipped Jellybean some new records as well as a few candles (Betty’s idea) for his mother, and even bought his dad a new pair of gloves and a scarf. He’d been waiting on this payday to go get some last-minute gifts for Archie and Betty, but he decides he can splurge a few dollars on a couple of burgers in the spirit of Christmas and all things merry.

 

He locks up the booth, turns the lights off and heads towards the exit, waving at Mr. Ross over the sound of the Zamboni working on the ice.

 

He has the truck tonight, so he bundles up as best as he can and makes a dash towards it, not noticing the other car parked next to it until Betty emerges from inside, the collar of her light pink coat pulled up over her ears and her gloved hands hidden somewhere in the material.

 

“Betty—,” he sputters out, unconsciously reaching for her and pulling her closer to him. “What are you doing here?”

 

She doesn’t respond, instead she pulls a hand out of her pocket, places it on the side of his scarf-covered-neck and kisses him soundly.

 

She pulls away before he can even process what’s going on, the combination of the cold seeping through his many layers of clothing and the warmth of her lips on his completely muddling his mind up.

 

“I need to tell you something,” she says, eyes moving over his face quickly before giving him a small smile when he just keeps staring at her, lips still parted from her kiss. “Can we maybe get in the truck? It’s freezing.”

 

“What?” he asks dumbly, before realizing what she’s asking and clumsily throwing the door to the driver’s side open. She hops on, already moving backwards to sit on the passenger seat.

 

He stops her, reaching for her waist and pressing a kiss against her lips.

 

It’s all brand new, kissing _and_ kissing Betty, but it’s also something that’s been on his mind for years.

 

She giggles and pecks his lips—and what ends up being his teeth as he can’t help but grin widely—before tracing her gloved fingers over his face. “You’ll freeze, come on.”

 

She shimmies back until there’s enough space for him to fit next to her.

 

“So, what did you want to tell me?” he breathes out once he’s settled in and turned on the heat, angling his body towards hers.

 

“God, Juggie, I’ve been flirting with you for ages,” she tells him, rolling her eyes and taking his hand in hers. “I was starting to fear I was becoming obnoxious.”

 

“Wait, really?”

 

“You really didn’t notice? Veronica said maybe I wasn’t being obvious enough and that you’re _Jughead_ -,” he snorts at this, - “and you needed a little push. And then I thought the mistletoe—”

 

“ _You_ put that up?”

 

He’d come in a few weeks ago to find mistletoe hanging from every single possible surface in the ice rink, but he’d attributed it to Mrs. Tate’s holiday spirit. He’d had a pretty bad day watching Betty giggle and kiss everyone’s cheek as he grumbled inside the booth, pretending to type whenever she caught him staring.

 

“I’m such an idiot,” he laments, banging his head slowly on the steering wheel. “I thought it was just—you know, your usual holiday cheer.”

 

Betty laughs, her hand flying to the back of his neck in comfort. “Well, it wasn’t all that bad really. I didn’t get to kiss you, but I did get to see your face whenever Reggie’s brother conveniently pulled me under a branch, so you know, worth it.”

 

He turns his head to the side so he can fake a glare in her direction before tutting. “Look at you, taking advantage of a 13 year- old just to get me to kiss you. You should’ve just asked.”

 

Her cheeks turn slightly red at that, and her previously gentle hand on his neck smacks him lightly. “I didn’t—whatever.”

 

“Betts?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“If you don’t have plans tonight, I know this place that has at least 13 branches of mistletoe—don’t laugh at me, Betty, my booth has a _really_ good overview of the rink—”

 

“I _knew_ you counted them—"

 

He’s halfway out the door when he’s done saying,"Last one in has to make up an excuse if Mr. Ross catches us, go!”

 

(He’s the last one in, but she’s the one who’s able to articulate a somewhat believable excuse when the door to the maintenance closet they’ve been making out in bursts open to reveal a very unamused Mr. Ross.)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays, everyone!
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this sweet little thing.
> 
> as always, find me at @indiebughead on tumblr so we can chat etc.


End file.
